A Cozy, Peaceful Corner After A Stressful Week

 I enjoy visiting my family. I do. But there are these undercurrents that make the visits more stressful than a person wants when they've driven 950 miles to make them. The stresses involve an elderly parent, two siblings who will make life more complicated after said parent has passed on, and non-Christian relatives with whom I am not allowed to share my faith, or else.

Worse, my husband hates traveling, and worries for most of the drive and for much of the time we are away from home. 

The straw that almost broke the camel's back this afternoon was when we couldn't get the door to our Airbnb unlocked, and the host took her time replying to my desperate texts, voicemail, and message on the Airbnb website.

Did I tell you the temperature was above 90 and the humidity had to be at least 70%?

The host probably didn't take as long to answer as it felt like, and she was soon at our home-for-the-night, showing us how to use the mechanical lock. Utterly relieved, I took my things inside, used the bathroom, then ate some fruit while moving food from coolers to refrigerator and delegating the moving of various pieces of luggage and other travel bits to their proper places because everything has a place and everything must be in place regardless of where you are.

If, that is, you are traveling with me. 

As I flitted about, the decor of the house caught my eye, its calm atmosphere seeping into my frazzled soul. It's an old house, like all of them in the neighborhood, and much of it has been left in its original state - or has been redone to maintain its original appearance, such as the hardwood floors, doors that remind me of my grandparents' home, and vintage cupboards and drawers in the kitchen.

One closet contains TV dinner stands almost exactly like the ones my family had when I was growing up, the kind with metal legs that folded out and a semi-flexible plastic top covered in a floral design. I have my laptop on one of them as I type.

The curtains, the arrangements and knick-knacks sprinkled around the place, the wall decor, and much of the furniture form an eclectic style that is a mix of mid-century (or older) vintage and tasteful thrift store finds. The light in the corner of the dining room is covered in a beautiful, oblong orange glass that makes the bulb emit a soft, golden glow. A lamp on the dresser in one bedroom is reminiscent of the one my parents had on their dresser: all glass, including the shade, and turned on and off with a thin, metal knob. 

The house is small - maybe eight hundred square feet? maybe? - but one room flows into another, inviting everything from fellowship and laughter to a secluded retreat with a good book.

I'm in one of those secluded places now. Adjacent to the bedroom my husband picked out for us when we came in is another, slightly smaller, space. There is no door between it and the bedroom, and its original purpose has likely long since slid away with the years in which it has been inhabited.

A child's nursery? A sewing room? A home office? A mix of the three, or something different altogether?

Now it has been made up into a third sleeping area, intended, by the metal shelf to my right containing a variety of toys and small quilts, for children. 

I'm not a child, and though I'm happily married to my husband of twenty years, I am going to sleep on the daybed that extends along one entire wall. I am hoping for a better night's sleep if he is not next to me, getting up several times in the middle of the night to take care of bladder business. The curtain separating the two rooms will do nothing to keep me from hearing his snoring, however, so we will see.

A decorative metal arch rises up on the back of the daybed, a quilt splashing the bed with color with its multi-hued star sewn into the middle of it. On the wall above, three soft paintings (watercolor? I need to get a better look) of a baby and two little girls add interest to the room.  

The adjacent wall consists of a a series of windows, adorned with alternating mint green and floral curtains. The wall behind me also is mostly window, covered in the same floral curtain. 

I sit in a chair that looks like it came out of a '70s living room, minus the garish color, with a wood frame, arms of bare, varnished wood, the back and seat containing matching cushions of a more-or-less neutral woven fabric. To my left stands the one light in this space, a retro floor lamp with a metal shade, its base and pole painted a kind of turquoise. 

It's cozy, and for one night, it's mine. My solace. My place to think, to pray, to read.

To write a blog post.

A peaceful corner to help me release the pent-up stress from the past week, and to rejuvenate me for the final day of our journey back home tomorrow.

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